


You're Mine

by Anonymous



Category: Fandom (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Class Differences, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hugo Award Drama, Hugo Award reimagined as human, M/M, Power Dynamics, Reader-Insert, Safe Sane and Consensual, reader can be any gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Reader and The Hugo Award get up to some saucy early morning play.





	You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I spend my morning writing this instead of doing the work I took home for the weekend? I blame society.
> 
> Uggh, read the tags I guess.

You slowly spin a lock of your hair around one finger as you sip your tea (Darjeeling, lemon, no sugar). The breakfast nook is engulfed in golden light and the only discernible sound is an early autumn breeze whistling through the trees in the garden outside. This is nice, you think. You love your busy life and you’re not embarrassed to admit that you love the attention and the excitement that comes with it. You have a lovely group of supportive friends and you enjoy your work, as difficult as it can be at times. Sometimes, however, one craves a measure of peace and quiet.

That said, you can't help but feel something resembling relief when you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The temporary solitude has been nice, yes, but you were ready for some company. The right kind of company, that is. "Hey, good morning," you say, looking up with a smile.

But there was nothing pleasant or welcoming about the expression on the face of the Hugo Award. "You," he spits out, his face distorted by anger.

“Hugo, what's wrong?” Panic creeps down your spine.

“As if you don't know!” He grabs the chair opposite you, but instead of sitting, he pushes it aside roughly and plants his hands firmly on the tabletop.

You swallow, and your throat is suddenly as dry as sand. “I don't, I swear! Did something happen?”

He's leaning forward now. “You think you own me? You think I'm yours?”

'You're mine and I'm yours-' You stop yourself. Wait, was this about your, erm, activities last night? But that had been enthusiastically consensual! Right? “Look, Hugo, if I did anything to make you uncomfortable, I am so sorry, and please tell me what it was so we can work through this. _Please_.”

He scoffs. “It's not what you did, it's what you are.”

“Excuse me?” The combination of horror and shame you’ve been feeling slowly turns to something else, something black and twisting in the pit of your stomach. To say that the two of you came from different backgrounds would be an understatement. There had been difficulties early on in your relationship, you won't deny it, and there were still plenty of people in both of your respective communities that weren't happy about it. Even now, you occasionally get self-conscious when someone from Hugo's crowd mentions your accent or asks where you went to school. Even Hugo will sometimes say something insensitive without realising it, and yes, that hurts. But mostly you're confident and you know your worth. Plus, you’ve got your partner's unwavering support. At least, you’d thought you had. Forcing yourself to focus on the situation at hand, you stand up from the table. Your legs feel wooden and unstable, but you manage to pull Hugo around, so he’s forced to meet you eye to eye. 

“You really think a slutty piece of trash like you is worthy of me?" His question hits you like a brick and his tone drips contempt. You feel stuck, frozen to the ground. The left side of Hugo's mouth curls up in a sneer and now it's your face that's transformed by fury, but he continues unmoved. "You think you can just make me submit to you and just get away with it? You can put on whatever act you wish, but anyone with sense knows what you really are.

You slap him before you’re even fully aware of what you’re doing. After a moment of shocked silence, he turns his gaze back to you and opens his mouth. “I’d think very carefully before saying anything else, _darling_. Trust me when I say that you don’t want to make this worse than you already have.” You make sure your voice is laced with malice.

You allow yourself a moment of satisfaction as his jaw snaps shut, then you lean in near his ear with a whisper. “Same safe word as usual?” He nods and there’s a crack in his otherwise convincing expression of fear that reveals another emotion entirely. “I need you to tell me verbally.”

“Yes, the usual one! C’mon, babe, don’t stop now.” 

You manage to keep a straight face. “Oh, so you’ve decided to be impatient as well as insolent. I hope you know you aren’t exactly helping yourself here.” You laugh, but you’re aware the sound is devoid of humour.

His eyes are downcast, and his face is flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” you say, looking at him coldly. “I really don’t think you are.” You reach up and twist your fingers into his hair and pull his face forward slightly. “But I promise you will be.”

“I know what I said was- um, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He sounds desperate, like he's moments away from begging. Good.

You release him and allow yourself a hint of a smile. “I see. Now we’re getting somewhere. Why don’t we start with a real apology?”

He looks up eagerly. “I apolo-”

“Not like that. Take your robe off.” You sit back down in your chair and cross your arms. “The T-shirt too. You can keep your boxers for now.”

“But-” 

“You really think now is a good time argue with me? Guess that means you can lose the boxers too. Get on your knees when you’re done.” 

Hugo’s face reddens, but he moves to comply, quickly stripping his clothes off and throwing them carelessly on the floor. You appraise him as he sinks awkwardly to his knees, noting his half-hard cock. “I see something’s interested,” you say with a smirk.

His shoulders slump. “I did what you said. What more do you want from me?”

You raise an eyebrow at the petulant tone and hope he takes it for the warning it is. “Silence, for one thing. Though I imagine that mouth of yours will feature into your apology.” You hadn’t thought his face could get any more flushed than it already was, but you were wrong. You’re glad you got dressed and styled your hair before coming downstairs because it only increases the contrast between you and the naked, kneeling figure on your kitchen floor. “So, a question before we begin. Out of the two of us here right now, who exactly do you think would best be described as a “slutty piece of trash?”

“Uh.”

“I’m waiting,” you say, tapping your fingers on the table for emphasis.

He glances sideways and then downward. “Me.”

“Correct, luckily I don’t mind too much. Okay, come here.” He shuffles forward until he reaches your knees. He looks up at you shyly and you nod, cupping his chin in your hand and leaning down into a kiss. After you release him, you let him struggle with your belt for a while, pushing him off gently when he succeeds at unfastening it.

“One more thing.” You pretend not to notice his half-repressed groan and the raw need in his eyes. “Who do you belong to?”

This time there’s no hesitation. “You.”

“Yes.” You lean back, satisfied with the answer. “You’re mine, aren’t you, Hugo?”

“Yes, yes. I’m yours.”

“That’s right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry?


End file.
